


Everything

by spasticVocalist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, pure fluff, pure glorious fluff, tooth-rotting diabeetus-inducing coma-worthy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:28:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3640224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spasticVocalist/pseuds/spasticVocalist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>John is your everything, and you are his.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything

**Author's Note:**

> since im a lazy piece of shit  
> you get this instead of the next chapter of hifaicgu ~~which i have been too lazy to write the next chapter of~~  
>  pfft thats a horrible acronym

It felt a little weird at first - being in a human relationship. You were just so used to the idea of purely concupiscent relationships and purely platonic ones, that being in a relationship where the two meshed felt odd. Wrong, even. You always used to go on rants about how troll romance was so vastly superior, it wasn't even funny. But then... Well. John happened. And you couldn't help falling for the dork. He was just so pitiable. With his inherent clumsiness, and his stupid, frail human body, and his perpetual habit of being too goddamned friendly for his own good. 

He was attractive, too. Sure, he had those stupidly large, blunt teeth. But he also had that perfect, windswept, jet-black hair, and that lean yet gorgeously muscular body, and those piercing, electric blue eyes, and he carried himself in this completely goofy way that was also confident and care-free. 

There was something else about him that made your blood pusher race, but you could never exactly pinpoint what it was, and so you kind of just gave up on trying to understand it. 

And then, when he told you that he had feelings for you, and that he had just been a stupid, clueless kid when he had told you he 'wasn't a homosexual', and that he was actually bisexual, you hadn't known what that meant but you really hadn't cared because this gorgeous idiot had feelings for you and that was the only thing you had been able to process at that moment. 

You had agreed to a relationship with him, against your better judgement at that time. It had been really awkward at first. You wouldn't let him do anything pale with you, but, horrorterrors show him mercy, he had been patient and more understanding than he should have been warranted to be. Eventually, after you got used to his general lack of knowledge of personal space and his clinginess, he successfully managed to ease you into being his boyfriend, instead of just his matesprit. 

If you had known what being in a human relationship felt like beforehand, you would have cheerfully told the quadrants exactly where they could shove their propaganda-originated asses. 

John is your everything, and you are his. 

It's mornings like these, where you wake up in his arms, surrounded by his warmth, that you are absolutely certain of this and have no doubts in yourself, his feelings for you, your worthiness of those feelings, or whether or not this is right. You feel so safe in his embrace; so complete; so loved. With John, you never have to question his sincerity. He just has this way of either stumbling into his gestures or being so blatantly honest about them that leaves no room for doubt. He wears his heart on his metaphorical sleeve. You rarely get horrorterrors at night anymore, even without sopor slime, because he just wraps you up in himself and makes you feel so stupidly happy, you don't have the capacity to feel scared by anything. 

You sigh contentedly. Nuzzle into his neck. He stirs, arms tightening around your back and breathing deeply as he awakens. 

"Morning." Your greeting is muffled by his shoulder. 

He smiles lazily as he kisses your neck, returning the sentiment. "Morning, Karkat."

You hum in return. Kiss the juncture of his shoulder and neck. 

He untangles one of his arms and moves you with his hand at your jaw to kiss you languidly, lips moving unhurried, like he could do this for the rest of his life and never get bored. Then he pulls away, but not too far; his lips are a feather light pressure against yours as he mumbles, "I love you."

You smile. "I love you too, you dork."


End file.
